 | The poet, the fool and the faeries |  |
233
THE HILL ROAD
The old road, the hill road, the road that used to go
Through briar and bloom and gleam and gloom among the wooded ways,—
Oh, would that we might follow it as once we did, you know!
The old road, the home road, the road of happy days.
Through briar and bloom and gleam and gloom among the wooded ways,—
Oh, would that we might follow it as once we did, you know!
The old road, the home road, the road of happy days.
The old road, the long road, the road among the hills,
The hills of old enchantments and the hollow-lands of dreams,
Again it calls with memories of days that nothing stills,
And down the years, as down a lane, its home-light winks and gleams.
The hills of old enchantments and the hollow-lands of dreams,
Again it calls with memories of days that nothing stills,
And down the years, as down a lane, its home-light winks and gleams.
Again we smell its dust, the rain distills into perfume;
Again the night, with fingertip of firefly-twinkling gold,
Points us the path to follow home through deeps of dewy bloom,
And on the bough the whippoorwill is calling as of old.
Again the night, with fingertip of firefly-twinkling gold,
Points us the path to follow home through deeps of dewy bloom,
And on the bough the whippoorwill is calling as of old.
234
The old road, the lost road, the road where, heart and hand,
Simplicity and innocence of childhood used to play,
Till o'er the hills Ambitions came, loud-riding through the land,
And bade us mount and follow them, forever and a day.
Simplicity and innocence of childhood used to play,
Till o'er the hills Ambitions came, loud-riding through the land,
And bade us mount and follow them, forever and a day.
The old road, the hill road, the road we galloped down,
The road we left of sweet content for one of moil and toil,
The road we fain would find again, and those two playmates brown,
Barefooted Happiness and Health, tanned children of the soil.
The road we left of sweet content for one of moil and toil,
The road we fain would find again, and those two playmates brown,
Barefooted Happiness and Health, tanned children of the soil.
Again I hear them in the wind a-calling me to come;
From fern and flower they nod their heads or lift a faery face;
And in the twilight there they dance unto the crickets' thrum,
While friendly voices say good-night within a rose-sweet place.
From fern and flower they nod their heads or lift a faery face;
And in the twilight there they dance unto the crickets' thrum,
While friendly voices say good-night within a rose-sweet place.
The old road, the hill road, the road that you and I
Are fain to find and take again and once again to roam!—
The road into the oldtime hills where we at last would lie,
Secure within our mother's arms and safe again at home.
235
The road into the oldtime hills where we at last would lie,
Secure within our mother's arms and safe again at home.
| The poet, the fool and the faeries | |